


A Song Just For You

by yikescaninot



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Linear Narrative, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 17:37:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16897026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yikescaninot/pseuds/yikescaninot
Summary: Kuroo squints up at the bright hospital lighting. The panic he had felt on his way there has long since subsided and he’s left feeling cold and empty. He feels a rattling heartache in his chest with every breath, and he accepts that it might be too late.It was the eighth time in fifteen months that Kuroo had gone to see Daichi perform, and he had been just as captivated this time as the first...





	A Song Just For You

**Author's Note:**

> KuroDai Weekend Day 1: Celebrity/Hanahaki  
> I chose to mash 'em together! The story jumps back and forth between memories and the events of the 'present' night. Hopefully I didn't mess that up too much. Let me know what you think in the comments below. :) Please enjoy!

_August 28th - 01:47_

Kuroo squints up at the bright hospital lighting. The panic he had felt on his way there has long since subsided and he’s left feeling cold and empty. He feels a rattling heartache in his chest with every breath, and he accepts that it might be too late.

Somewhere outside the door, he hears doctors talking, and even further in the distance, he hears Bokuto’s loud voice, heavy with worry. He doesn’t hear Oikawa or Suga, but he knows they’re there, too, probably trying to hush Bokuto.

There’s music playing from the nurses’ station, a gravelly, upbeat tune from the small AM/FM radio plugged in near the edge. He doesn’t want to hear music right now. Music may not be the entire reason he was in the hospital, but it had a hand in why he is there, and no other music but _his_ would soothe the ache in Kuroo’s chest now.

He closes his eyes, trying to pull the warmth of memories around himself.

It was the eighth time in fifteen months that Kuroo had gone to see Daichi perform, and he had been just as captivated this time as the first...

 

* * *

 

May of last year:

_The singer’s eyes always returned to his._

_At some point, Kuroo wasn’t even trying to pretend that he wasn’t staring at the beautiful man on stage anymore._

_If someone had asked Kuroo what songs were sung that night, he probably wouldn’t have been able to tell them, but he knew he liked each and every one of them because they all came from_ him _. He sang with such conviction and heart that Kuroo was sure they were love songs, and Kuroo could feel himself be jealous of someone who may not even exist. Whoever could get the man to sing with such whole-hearted honesty was probably a god among men. Or women. He didn’t want to assume (or hope)._

_“Bro?” Bokuto nudged him less delicately than he had the past three times._

_Kuroo hummed in acknowledgement, barely turning his head towards his friend, eyes still glued to the man on stage._

_“I_ said _now that you’re done, we should try and get everyone together to play a game of volleyball.”_

_“Yeah, Bo, sounds great,” he answered, hearing only the word ‘volleyball.’_

_He missed the way Bokuto and Oikawa looked at each other and only turned back to their table fully when the singer said he would be taking a fifteen-minute break before the second set, then disappeared off stage._

_“Are you going to go talk to him?” Oikawa looked at Kuroo, propping his chin upon his hand._

_“Not a chance. Did you_ see _him?”_

_Both Bokuto and Oikawa gaped at him._

_“Who are you, and what have you done with our Tetsu?” Oikawa accused, eyes narrowed in good nature on Kuroo._

_Kuroo held his hands up defensively, but couldn’t stop himself from looking over his shoulder and quickly scanning the bar for the singer. He spotted the man at the bar around the same time that his friends had if the jabs to his side were any indication. Hissing, he leaned away._

_“Go talk to him.” Oikawa reached over to jab again before pointing towards the bar. “And while you’re there, get Suga’s number for me,” he added as an afterthought._

_Kuroo snorted and shook his head. “You know that he won’t give it to me. You’ve been trying for how many months now?”_

_“Maybe tonight’s the night that Mr Refreshing realizes what he’s been missing,” Oikawa sniffed derisively before looking down into his glass with a frown. “He seems interested, just hard to get. Am I reading it wrong?” Oikawa asked as quietly as he could, given the volume of their surroundings, in a rare show of insecurity._

_Reaching over, Kuroo clapped him on the shoulder gently. “Fine,” he placated. “Anyone need a refill yet?” A quick scan of their table said no, but he offered anyways. He gave Oikawa a reassuring smile before leaving the table. He weaved his way through the crowd towards the bar where Suga was sliding over a glass of water to the singer._

_“...should say something, Daichi,” Suga was saying encouragingly before looking up to see Kuroo. “Hey, Kuroo.” The grin that spread across Suga’s face was slow and impish._

_He leaned his elbows against the edge of the bar counter, smirking at Suga easily, falling comfortably into the routine. “Going to give Oikawa your number tonight?”_

_“No.”_

_“You should.”_

_“Why?”_

_Kuroo snorted. “Because I see you watching his ass when he walks back to the table. You two are the worst.”_

_“Is Oikawa the one you’ve been telling me about, Suga?” came a voice from Kuroo’s left, and his elbows almost slipped when he saw how close he actually was to the singer._

_The man was even more attractive up close, and Kuroo had to consciously remind himself to not gape at him openly._

_“Oho? So Suga_ is _interested in our resident pretty boy?” Quickly recovering from his surprise, Kuroo’s eyes flashed back to Suga in time to see his eyes narrow briefly. Kuroo grinned and held up his hands. “I’m not going to say it isn’t amusing watching Oikawa pine for once, but you should maybe entertain the idea of grabbing coffee with him sometime if you actually are interested. If not I’m sure I can make a strong case that your boyfriend here would disapprove.”_

_Kuroo could see the gears whirring in Suga’s mind as he mouthed the word ‘boyfriend’ in confusion. His eyes widened in realization when he looked towards the man beside Kuroo, and broke out in a loud round of laughter, his hands gripping the edge of the counter._

_“Boyfriend? Daichi? Stop,” Suga waved a hand above his head in surrender, still hunkered down against the counter._

_“Sawamura Daichi,” the man introduced himself to Kuroo, extending a hand, amusement clear on his face. “I’m back on in a minute, but if you’re still around after the next set I’d love to hear more about Suga, this Oikawa, and exactly how much I need to bug Suga about being a disaster gay.”_

_Kuroo took his hand easily with a lopsided grin. “Kuroo Tetsurou. I’ll stick around.”_

_Suga and Kuroo both watched Daichi take his water back to his spot on the stage and pick his guitar up from the case it was leaning in near his stool. When the music started back up, Kuroo leaned his hip against the bar and rest his chin on his hand._

_He was vaguely aware of Suga moving around to serve other patrons before returning to where he was standing and flicking a towel at his arm. He blinked and looked over._

_“Suga?”_

_“What are your intentions with my boy?” Suga asked suspiciously, arms crossed over his chest._

_“At this point, I haven’t a damn clue, but I do know I want to hear him sing more.”_

_“Are you going to stay until he’s done?”_

_“Yeah. Yeah, I think so,” Kuroo hummed, his eyes moving back to Daichi._

_And he had. He’d stayed long after Bokuto had left to go meet Akaashi after work, and long after Oikawa had decided he’d flirted with Suga enough to feel good about leaving for work the next day. It was a Wednesday night and the bar wasn’t as full as it could have been, so when Daichi finished performing and had packed up his guitar, he and Kuroo had been able to duck into a more-or-less empty corner._

_When he had finally left, his cheeks hurt from smiling and laughing so much, and his phone had two new contacts in it - one for him, and one to forward to Oikawa._

 

* * *

 

_August 27th - 22:41_

Daichi’s voice sounds a little different than usual while he sings, a little deeper, a little huskier. His eyes scan the crowd, always landing back on Kuroo’s, his smile always growing at the familiar face. Kuroo can’t help but return each smile.

Oikawa returns to their table, drinks in hand. He’s wearing a rare, genuine smile that no doubt is because of Suga. “How are you feeling?” he asks, leaning in close to Kuroo to be heard over the surrounding customers and the music.

Kuroo waves a hand in Oikawa’s face before he reaches to pick up his beer. “It was just a cough,” he dismisses, eyes never leaving the stage.

“Are you going to tell him tonight?”

That brings his attention to Oikawa. He frowns and narrows his eyes suspiciously. “What have you been telling Suga?” he asks.

Oikawa holds his hands up in defence, shaking his head. “I haven’t said a thing, but Koushi isn’t blind, Kuroo-chan. Even Iwa-chan and his thick head would be able to figure it out.”

Kuroo snorts slightly then shakes his head as well. “You and Iwaizumi work it out yet?”

Oikawa shrugs, and looks down to his drink, swirling it around with the small straw. His eyebrows are drawn together in a small frown. “We’re getting there. Koushi said Sawamura-kun has also been fighting off a cold. Going to offer to take care of him?” Oikawa changes topics quickly, expression smug as he nudges his shoulder against Kuroo’s.

“He has been? He hasn’t said anything about it to me,” Kuroo says with a frown. He looks back to Daichi, this time with an observant stare, trying to see evidence that supports the singer being sick. Does he look a little more tired?

Oikawa hums slightly. “Koushi tried convincing him not to perform tonight, but he said he had an important song to sing,” he says with a pointed look at Kuroo.

 

* * *

 

September of last year:

_“You actually showed up,” Daichi said, sounding impressed as he slid into a chair at their table. He nodded in greeting to Bokuto and Akaashi before turning his attention back to Kuroo._

_Kuroo gasped in fake offence, a hand to his chest as if wounded. “Sawamura, I can’t believe you would think so little of me. To think I would lie about something this important? Shame on you.”_

_“It’s not really_ that _important,” Daichi said, glancing towards the bar where Suga and Oikawa were watching them with matching shit-eating grins. His cheeks were tinted red, but Kuroo chalked that up to having sung for the past hour already._

_“Sawamura-san, do you perform often?” Akaashi asked. He was leaning against Bokuto’s arm slightly, his glass cradled between both hands._

_“A couple of times a month, at most.” Daichi looked towards Akaashi, looking a little less flustered under the presence of a direct question.  “I’ve had more time since finishing school, but it’s still not exactly the most lucrative source of income.” Daichi chuckled, a sound so warm and all-encompassing it made Kuroo glad he was sitting. He was sure he would have gone weak at the knees if he weren’t._

_“Oh? What is it you do, then, if you don’t mind me asking?”_

_“Sports journalism. Lets me have a bit more flexible of hours.”_

_“Flexible, huh?”_

_Kuroo met Bokuto’s eyes across the table and resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands at the way Bokuto wiggled his eyebrows with his words._

_“Daichi, you’re back on soon,” Suga called before ducking his head back close to Oikawa’s, both leaning in from opposite sides of the counter while the other bartender filled orders._

_Daichi glanced towards Kuroo with a look that might have been regretful, but rapped his knuckles on the tabletop and stood up. Kuroo watched him walk away, waiting until Daichi had reached the small set-up before dropping his head into his hands with a groan._

_“I would die a happy man suffocated between those thighs,” Kuroo groaned into his palms, ignoring the way Akaashi chuckled and Bokuto outright laughed._

_“You need to tell him. Clearly texting all the time isn’t enough for either of you, Kuroo.” Bokuto grinned, shifting his arm to rest along the back of Akaashi’s chair._

_Akaashi hummed in agreement, shifting his weight back on his hip to lean more into Bokuto’s side. He took a sip of his drink, eyes wandering over to the stage then back to Kuroo._

_Kuroo was watching Daichi again. Secured with the knowledge that Daichi knew Kuroo was there for him, he didn’t bother hiding the fact that he was staring. Since his last performance, they had spent the months texting back and forth. The texts filled the quiet moments in Kuroo’s day, and he found himself looking forward to every message, even if he wasn’t always sure that Daichi was flirting back. He didn’t want to get his hopes up too much in case he was imagining it._

_At a table near the stage, catching Kuroo’s attention in his peripherals, a man returned to his seat, his eyes also trained on Daichi’s figure. His blonde hair caught the light, and when he turned to talk to someone else at his table, so did his tongue ring. A knot worked into Kuroo’s stomach, seeing the way Daichi’s eyes occasionally glanced to the blonde before turning back in Kuroo’s direction._

_“You look constipated, Kuroo-chan.” Oikawa dropped into a chair beside Kuroo. “Everything okay?”_

_“He’s just thirsting over Sawamura and suffering for it, Oikawa-san,” Akaashi supplied when Kuroo didn’t respond right away._

_Oikawa leaned back in his chair with a laugh. “I have it on good faith that you have a very good chance, so take it.”_

_The rest of the set went by quickly, and Kuroo was torn between watching Daichi, glaring at the man who was also watching Daichi, and his own friends who still, on occasion, tried to get his attention. He hadn’t bothered getting a refill of his beer and when Suga collected their empty glasses, the bartender gave Kuroo a look that was equal parts exasperation and concern._

_When the regular playlist started playing over the bar’s speaker system and Daichi was packing up his guitar, Kuroo got to his feet. He had made it halfway to the stage to talk to Daichi when he saw the blonde already at his side with an easy grin and a hand on the singer’s arm. Daichi was smiling back and before he knew it, Kuroo found himself outside on the sidewalk in front of the bar. He looked up at the streetlight and exhaled heavily._

_“Oh, Tetsurou, you are a disaster, aren’t you?” he asked himself, his hands on his hips._

_The door opened behind him and the sound of the bar spilled out along with Daichi and the occupants of the table Kuroo had kept an eye on. A frown creased Kuroo’s brow at how close the blonde was to Daichi before he reminded himself he had nothing to feel jealous about._

_“Are you sure you don’t want to come hang out with us, Sawamura-kun?” the blonde asked, his hand making its way back to Daichi’s shoulder._

_“Sorry, Terushima. I already have a date for the night. Thanks for coming, though,” Daichi said easily, stepping away from the group and to Kuroo’s side. At this, Kuroo tried not to look too surprised, instead opting for his usual lazy smirk._

_Terushima looked at Kuroo, then back to Daichi, and nodded reluctantly. “Sang great as always. Hopefully we can make the next performance.”_

_Daichi smiled at them pleasantly before shifting the strap of his guitar case higher up his shoulder, and looking at Kuroo - looking_ up _at Kuroo, he acknowledged with a small spark of satisfaction._

_“Too crowded in there for you tonight? You left so quickly, I would have missed you if I wasn’t watching,” Daichi said, his voice calm, but there was a note of hesitancy and a worry in his expression that muddied those wonderful eyes of his._

_Kuroo’s shoulders relaxed._ He was watching _, he thought to himself. With ease, he dropped his arm around Daichi’s shoulders like it was made to fit the breadth of them, and steered the singer in the direction of the crosswalk._

_“Don’t worry about me, Sa’amura. Hungry? I know a great ramen place that’s still open.”_

 

* * *

 

_August 28th - 02:11_

Iwaizumi walks into the room and gives Kuroo a sympathetic look, his hands in the pockets of his white coat.

“I don’t think I could stand it if surgery was the only option, Iwaizumi,” Kuroo admits. It’s selfish, he knows, but it’s how he feels.

“You could always talk to him, Kuroo. We don’t know for certain how he feels.”

“When he wakes up,” Kuroo says quietly after a long moment, resolved. He looks towards Iwaizumi, noting the bags under the other man’s eyes that probably mirror his own. “How’d you decide?”

Iwaizumi snorts. “You know Oikawa. He wasn’t ready to be responsible. I wasn’t ready to die. Maybe my mistake was telling him too late.” The doctor shrugs a shoulder before giving Kuroo a pointed look. “Don’t make the same mistake, Kuroo.”

Kuroo coughs into the crook of his arm, waving a hand dismissively at Iwaizumi’s concerned look. When he can take a full breath again, he looks over to the shorter man and attempts a crooked smile that inevitably falls flat.

“Do you regret it?” Kuroo asks. “Not being able to love him like that again?”

Iwaizumi studies him a moment, knowing Oikawa and Kuroo were close. His shoulders drop on the next exhale, and he lowers to sit in a chair beside Kuroo. “No,” he says, leaning back. “He was part of my life long before this mess. He’ll be a part of it long after if he wants to be. He’s important to me, love or not.”

“You should tell him. He still blames himself.”

“You’re not allowed to be giving out relationship advice when you’ve been such an idiot.”

“Ouch, doc. This isn’t the right room to cut into me like that.”

Iwaizumi chuckles slightly and pats Kuroo’s shoulder before standing. He hesitates when Oikawa’s voice can momentarily be heard much more clearly from down the hall. Kuroo clears his throat, making Iwaizumi look over and shake his head when Kuroo simply points in the direction of their friends. The shorter of the two holds his hands up in surrender before leaving the room, hesitating only a half second before turning down towards the cafeteria.

 

* * *

 

June of this year:

_Kuroo ran almost the entire way from the station to Suga’s bar. It didn’t help, but he was acutely aware of every clock face he passed by, reminding him exactly how late he was. Several heads turned towards the door when he hurried in, and he almost dropped in relief when one of them was Daichi._

_He mumbled a quick apology to the table nearest the door before weaving his way through the bar, running a hand through his hair with a grimace, knowing already it would be a failed attempt to tame the unruly mess._

_“You look like shit,” Suga said with a grin, sliding over a water and Kuroo’s usual beer._

_“Love you, too, Suga,” Kuroo grunted as he dumped himself onto one of the bar stools at the counter. He made quick work of downing half of the water before turning, knocking his knees gently against Daichi’s. “Sorry I’m late. There was a mix up at the lab and just-” Kuroo cut himself off with a groan, wiping his hands down his face in frustration. When his hands dropped back into his lap, he smiled with what he hoped was obvious gratitude at Daichi. “Thank you for waiting.”_

_Daichi chuckled slightly and took a sip of his own beer. If he was drinking that meant he was done singing, and Kuroo was, once again, cursing the interns that made him late. “Of course. My phone died so I had no way of telling you not to bother if I left early.” He rotated his glass slowly in his hands, glancing over to Kuroo._

_“Because the idea of getting me to text you never once crossed his mind,” Suga mumbled from where he was wiping down the counter, rolling his eyes._

_“Your phone is probably dead, too, given how much Oikawa and you text. Have you two decided what to do for your one-year yet? He kept going off about some planetarium this morning.” Kuroo looked at Suga over the rim of his glass, recalling the way Oikawa had been hunched over his laptop most of the morning, taking up half of the table in their shared apartment._

_“Oh, has it been that long already?” Suga asked nonchalantly, tucking his cloth over a pocket of his apron._

_Daichi snorted and shook his head. “Don’t even try and be cool when you were_ just _panicking to me about how many alien things is_ too many _alien things.”_

_Kuroo leaned back on his stool, laughing. “With Oikawa? No such thing as too many alien things. If he tries to tells you the ties were a joke gift, he’s lying. He bought them himself. In every colour, too, because they happened to be on sale.”_

_A delighted grin spread on Suga’s face and he quickly darted through a side door to the kitchen, pulling his phone out of his pocket on the way there._

_“I’m going to hear about that one when I get home. Should I be worried? Probably. Am I? No, not particularly.” Kuroo chuckled and looked over._

_Daichi, who had already been staring at Kuroo, blinked and quickly looked down to his drink, his thumb tracing a trail of perspiration on the glass. He had a small smile on his face. “Well,” he started. “At least they’re happy. Only took them a year to get their shit together and date.”_

_Kuroo hummed in response before taking a sip of his beer. He wondered how long it would take him to work up the courage to ask Daichi out so he could start to get his shit together, too._

 

* * *

 

_August 27th - 23:21_

Suga joins Kuroo and Oikawa at their table, pausing long enough to kiss his partner’s cheek before he drops into a chair.

“Are you two going to be gross? Do I need to find another table?” Kuroo frowns at the two, but his tone is light. He’s happy for them and their disgusting, adorable love, and they know that.

“Sure, go sit at a table closer to Daichi. I don’t think he can see you pining from here.”

“How can you be so mean with such a nice face, Suga?”

“Easy,” Suga responds with a blinding smile. He leans against the arm of the chair he’s in, shifting a bit to be able to see Daichi perform. When Akaashi and Bokuto join them not too long after, he smiles at them as well.

“On a break, Suga?” Bokuto asks, sitting down.

“Nope. I was only working a short shift for a coworker until they could get here.”

Kuroo tunes them out, almost entirely unintentionally, and turns his focus onto Daichi. The others are used to it by now; he becomes borderline unresponsive when the singer is on stage. That much hasn’t changed at all in over a year.

He doesn’t notice the table going quiet when he feels a pair of arms slip around his shoulders, and he blinks in surprise, looking back. He smiles when it’s Yaku’s face hovering over his shoulder, and he pats his old friend’s elbow.

“You didn’t tell me you were in town,” he chides Yaku, leaning back in his chair. The smaller man shrugs and side-steps around Kuroo, never letting go of his shoulders, and drops to sit in his lap. Kuroo smells the alcohol on his breath and shakes his head. “Still a lightweight, Yakkun. What would Lev think?”

Yaku frowns at this. “We’re fighting right now. He’s being a dumbass.”

“Do you have a place to stay, at least?”

Yaku nods. “Noya’s letting me crash on his couch.”

Kuroo looks up when he finally realizes the rest of the table is silent. Four sets of eyes are trained on him and Yaku, all with varying degrees of frowns on their faces. The silence is almost deafening and he realizes too late that Daichi has stopped singing.

“Someone call an ambulance!”

The entire table turns in the direction of the shout and Kuroo feels sick seeing the small crowd huddled around the front of the stage. He barely registers Yaku’s surprised shout when he dumps him to the ground, but Kuroo is already moving. He doesn’t need to look to know that the others are behind him.

He elbows his way through the onlookers to the first responder who had called for an ambulance. “Sawamura?” he calls in a panic, seeing the dropped guitar first. There’s a scratch on the bottom of it, no doubt from where it hit the stage. Daichi was always careful with his guitar. Daichi wouldn’t even let Kuroo hold it for too long because he had gotten the instrument from his father.

Daichi, who is currently gasping for breath, the wheezing sounds punctuated by coughs filled with mouthfuls of bloody petals.

Kuroo slides to his knees beside Daichi’s prone form, a hand instantly going to his cheek, the other shakily wiping petals from his chin. “Sawamura? Sawamura? _Daichi_?” His voice cracks. He’s pleading for those brown eyes, the ones that normally make him weak in the knees, to turn and focus on him again. When they do, he plasters a watery smile on his face. “Hey, handsome. Stay with us, okay?”

Behind him, he can hear Suga and Bokuto gasp almost in unison, and their respective partners trying to comfort them while simultaneously attempting to move the crowd back. He pays them no mind. They’re not important at this moment.

One of Daichi’s hands reaches up to hold onto Kuroo’s wrist, but there’s no strength behind it.

The silence around them is so loud, cocooned by the concerned whispering of spectators and their friends who are orchestrating people to move tables out of the way for the paramedics. He can’t hear the ambulance sirens yet.

“Who’s the asshole, Sawamura?”

Another round of coughing. He moves to take the place of the first responder to keep Daichi from choking on the petals joining the others surrounding them. Kuroo blinks back tears, keeping his calm facade firmly in place as he rubs Daichi’s back. He can finally hear the sirens as the coughing fit passes.

Daichi’s hand drops from his wrist and Kuroo clears his throat, looking up at their friends in a silent panic.

He can see the way he’s feeling mirrored back at him from his friends’ faces.

Too soon, but not nearly soon enough, Daichi is being taken out of his arms. He feels numb at the absence and he scrambles to his feet, following the paramedics out.

 

* * *

 

_August 28th - 03:07 (now)_

Kuroo leans his head back against the wall behind the chair. Daichi’s now stable in the room across from him, but he was told he can’t go in until Daichi’s woken up. The waiting feels like it’s killing Kuroo. His friends are around him, having pulled chairs from down the hall to line up beside Kuroo to wait with him. Their presence is comforting, but it doesn’t make it better.

He coughs into his shoulder and grits his teeth against the gross taste at the back of his throat. He gets up and heads to the nearest bathroom to rinse out his mouth, waving off the concerned look from Oikawa. When he walks into the bathroom around the corner, he takes a perfunctory glance in the direction of the stalls, seeing that he’s alone under the harsh fluorescent lights.

Turning on the tap with one hand, he grips the edge of the counter with the other, staring into the porcelain basin of the sink.

Had he missed something? Had Daichi mentioned being interested in someone? The thought squeezes his heart and he doubles over, the coughs wracking his body, making his chest feel like it’s splitting in two.

He spits out a mouthful of soggy petals and stares at them until he hears the bathroom door close. He looks up, meeting Oikawa’s wide, horrified eyes in the mirror.

“Just a _cough_?” Oikawa whispers accusingly. “How long?”

Kuroo shakes his head silently, throat still feeling too tight to answer.  The coughing may have been going on for weeks, but this was the first time there were petals. In the face of Daichi’s hospitalization, this seemed like nothing.

“He’s awake now. You better tell him, Tetsu. I couldn’t stand to see this happen a third time.”

When the door closes behind Oikawa, Kuroo shoves shaking hands under the still-running water then wipes them over his face, washing away any sign of the blood-flecked petals. He takes a few deep breaths -- or as deep as he can, anyways -- and looks at himself in the mirror. At this point, he’s been awake almost twenty-four hours, and it’s showing in the way the lines under his eyes sit heavy with dark bruises, and in the pallor of his skin.

He scoops the few petals into the garbage and washes his hands before going out to the hall.

Bokuto and Akaashi are standing beside the open door, speaking in hushed voices. When they spot him they fall silent. Bokuto is the first to break the silence. “Hey, bro. Oikawa said…” He can’t seem to bring himself to say it.

Kuroo pats him on the chest when he’s near enough, smiling thinly. Low voices catch his attention and he looks over to see Suga and Oikawa standing beside Daichi’s bed. Oikawa’s expression is pinched and he is holding onto Suga’s hand like it’s a lifeline in that moment. Maybe it is. Suga looks close to tears, and the way his eyes are red makes Kuroo thinks he’s already shed a few.

Suga notices him first, and his silence makes the other two look up. Suga tugs on Oikawa’s hand gently, pulling the taller man behind him as he makes his way out of the room. He pauses long enough to give Kuroo a pointed stare and hiss a command to talk before they exit out into the hallway.

Kuroo glances back to his friends in the hall before stepping further into the room and shuts the door quietly behind himself. Daichi has yet to say anything, and it makes his stomach turn. Daichi looks so small in the hospital bed, and he finds himself standing beside it before he realizes he’s moved.

“You look like shit.”

Kuroo laughs weakly, running a hand through his hair. “That’s rich coming from you, Sa’amura. You really scared us tonight.” His brows draw together.

“Sorry,” Daichi says, his voice hoarse. “Suga said-” He has to pause to take a couple of breaths. “Said you rode with me. Waited outside.”

Kuroo nods. “Akaashi grabbed your guitar, in case you were worried,” he mumbles. He reaches a hand down to take Daichi’s into in his own, the tension releasing minutely in his shoulders when he feels strength behind Daichi clasping back.

“Why?”

“Didn’t want to leave it at the bar.” Kuroo frowns, thinking that much was obvious.

Daichi shakes his head. “Why worry so much?”

“Sawamura, even you can’t be that blind.” Kuroo looks up at the ceiling, exhaling heavily. When there’s no response, he looks back down seeing Daichi looking at him in silent contemplation.

“You’re the asshole, by the way,” Daichi says finally. There’s a moment of hesitation before Daichi’s hand shifts and Kuroo feels their fingers lace together, fitting like they had been cut from the same cloth. At Kuroo’s confused look, he manages a small, wry smile. “In the bar. You asked who the asshole was. It’s you, you dumb cat.”

“You love me?”

“Against better judgement.”

Kuroo laughs faintly and squeezes Daichi’s hand, about to respond when Daichi waves his free hand, motioning him to wait.

“I’ll get the surgery. It’s okay. I didn’t know you already had someone.”

“What are you talking about?” Kuroo frowns, looking down at Daichi who seems to have drawn back into himself again. Realization makes his eyes go wide. “Yaku? You saw Yaku with me at the bar and you thought- Oh, Sa’amura.” He starts laughing, holding all the tighter to Daichi’s hand. “I’ve known Yaku since my first year of high school,” he explains when Daichi frowns and makes like he’s going to pull his hand away. “We’ve been really close since. Roomed together our first year of university in the dorms. He’s in town because he’s fighting with his Russian beanpole of a boyfriend, and he gets sloppy affectionate when he drinks. Personal space has no meaning to him, even though he knows I have feelings for you.”

Daichi sinks back into the pillows with a barely-concealed sigh of relief. The tension melts from his body, and he closes his eyes briefly. His breathing sounds like it’s coming easier now, and when he opens his eyes again, he gives Kuroo a smile so lovely and hopeful. “We’re idiots,” he says finally.

Kuroo grins and leans down until he can rest his forehead against Daichi’s, still holding onto his hand. “Yeah, we really are, Sa’amura. Suga and Oikawa are probably going to kill us.”

“Probably,” Daichi sighs with fake dejection. “Here I was hoping to get at least one real date out of you first.”

Kuroo snorts and nudges Daichi’s side to get him to move over. He kicks off his shoes and crawls onto the small hospital bed beside the other. “When they let you out of this place in the morning, we’re getting waffles,” Kuroo says through a yawn.

“French toast is better.”

“Our first fight. Cute.”

 

After half an hour of silence, Oikawa pokes his head back into the room. His head rests against the doorframe with a small smile when he sees Kuroo and Daichi holding each other, sound asleep and breathing easily in the middle of the softly beeping monitors.

**Author's Note:**

> #teamfrenchtoast  
> Now with [fanart](https://justforbadfriends.tumblr.com/post/183052891957/inspired-by-yikescaninot-beautiful-fanfic-a-song) by the lovely daiwakaroo ([Tumblr](https://justforbadfriends.tumblr.com/)/[AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justforbad_bros/pseuds/Justforbad_bros)) (even though she's never had french toast)


End file.
